There she is,
Sitting on the steps of the back porch.
It's the time of day when birds head home to nest,
the sun is dying down- a candle burnt to wick.
She's all alone, staring at the tree that rustles softly in the wind.
It would be quiet, except that the music in her headphones-
Blaring.
She's crying.
Droplets of feeling sliding down her face.
Her sobs make hardly a sound, yet her eyes are full of the deepest sadness.
Even on a beautiful night like this, she weeps.
It's been like this for years.
Crying, sobbing, weeping.
It's all the same.
The sadness surrounds her.

To her the world is a blur.
nothing has meaning, she tries everything.
Anything to feel something other than sadness.
The knife holds no threshold over the absolute sorrow,
yet she can find solace in it.
It won't be long until death takes her, or an even more forceful
human family pushes to help her.
She's dangling by a thread,
but human morality won't let her cut that last string.